


marcher au soleil

by tansybells



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, F/F, Flashbacks, Flashbacks as a Plot Device, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Loving relationships, Multi, Obnoxious Sky Imagery, Phoenixes, Polyamorous relationship, Polyamory, Rebirth, Self-Sacrifice, Tragedy, inspired by vocaloid songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells
Summary: “Hope” is the thing with feathers -That perches in the soul -And sings the tune without the words -And never stops - at all --Emily DickinsonMarianne and Hilda will stop at nothing to save their girlfriend, lost though she may be.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Marianne von Edmund/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	marcher au soleil

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily, _heavily_ inspired by TravoltaP's ["Soleil (ソレイユ)" ft. Kagamine Rin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gx8wJAi-WnY), with a bit of flavor from Tal's ["Marcher au Soleil."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orMxYOnqN5Q)
> 
> Summary from ["'Hope' is the thing with feathers - (314)"](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42889/hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-314) by Emily Dickinson

With her eyes closed, her forehead pressed up against that of her horse and nothing but the sound of rushing water to break the silence, Marianne could almost convince herself that things were normal. She could almost pretend that her loved ones were just a short way away, gathering food and supplies for the next leg of their never-ending journey. She could almost pretend that she didn’t feel loss like a missing limb, or that she wasn’t so tired from traveling across the countryside in a desperate search for hope.

She could almost pretend that love was enough to conquer all, that there was some way to undo the irreparable harm that had been done to so many.

“But then life would be too kind, wouldn’t it?” she whispered to Dorte, despite the fact that he had not been privy to her prior thoughts. “Life would be kind, and people would be happy, and we would all be together again.” Dorte whinnied in what she wanted to think was agreement, and Marianne smiled sadly.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose as the sound of Hilda’s approaching footsteps grew louder and louder.

“What did you learn?” Marianne asked, looking away from stroking the soft hair of Dorte’s nose as her partner walked up behind her. After pressing a gentle kiss to Marianne’s cheek, Hilda offered her a folded sheet of paper and a grim smile.

“Reports of a giant bird terrorizing a town a few miles away,” Hilda said as she looped her arms around Marianne’s waist and set her chin on Marianne’s shoulder. “I don’t know… does it sound like her?”

Marianne sighed and unfolded the paper. The bottom half was full of text detailing the destroyed houses, the ruined farmland, the injured people—but that wasn’t what she wanted to see. No, she was only interested in the image headlining the piece.

Based on eyewitness testimony, the picture showed a great bird looming over a house. Its size was obviously grossly exaggerated—she knew it to be maybe the size of a large tree—but the darkness of its feathers, the sharpness of its beak, and the flame that surrounded its figure left her with no doubt.

Folding the paper back up, her heart quickening with hope, Marianne slipped it into Dorte’s nearest saddlebag.

“I think it is,” she said, lifting her hand to brush her fingers against Hilda’s cheek. “It sounds like her. You saw what happened…”

“Mm. Are you ready to check it out?”

“Yes.”

“What if it’s not?” Hilda’s voice trembled behind her, and Marianne’s heart broke. They’d been traveling for so long; it was terrifying to think that their quest might soon come to a close. “We’ve followed so many of these rumors around, and none of them have actually been her. I’m so  _ tired,  _ Marianne. How long are we gonna keep doing this?”

“As long as it takes,” Marianne whispered. Her gaze wandered up towards the open sky above them, where a migrating flock of birds was the only thing to mar its otherwise perfect blue. “If it had been one of us, she would never have stopped looking. You know that.”

Hilda sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s just hard to stay hopeful sometimes.”

Marianne turned around within Hilda’s loose embrace and wrapped her up tightly in a hug of her own. Hilda leaned her head forward to rest her cheek on Marianne’s shoulder, and Marianne wriggled one hand out of her embrace. One, two, three times she patted the top of Hilda’s head before she began to run her hand lovingly through Hilda’s sweets-pink hair.

“We’ll save her,” she promised, returning her eyes to the sky. “We’ll save Edelgard, and we’ll bring her home.”

  
∞  
  


_ Edelgard pants for breath, brushes her hair out of her face as she lets the head of her axe fall to the ground. She’s exhausted, as is Hilda beside her, but she lifts an arm to wipe the blood off of her face anyway. _

_ Marianne rushes forward and immediately begins to run her hands over them, all over them, searching for signs that the blood that covers her girlfriends actually belongs to them. _

_ Much, too much, of the blood seems to be. _

_ “Why do you insist on being so reckless?” she scolds, her voice cracking under stress. “You two are going to be the death of me!” It’s easier to blame them than to look at the disintegrating carcass of the great black bird her lovers had been fighting in the first place. There’s nothing left there to blame. No spirit, no corpse, nothing. All she can do is scold them, and pray that they take her fear to heart. _

_ Her prayers will go unheard. She knows this. They’re too noble to let something as fleeting as their own lives get in the way of the greater good. _

_ “You know why we had to fight,” Edelgard says in reply. “It was—the town—you saw everything set aflame, didn’t you?” Her façade of endless strength wavers, and she collapses into Marianne’s embrace. Marianne’s knees threaten to buckle beneath the weight of Edelgard’s need for comfort, but thankfully, Hilda finds it within her to support Marianne from behind and holds both of them up. _

_ “I did.” Marianne is quiet. She can’t truly be mad. Not when she’s so relieved that she is not yet left alone in this world. “Edelgard, Hilda—you two did so well. I am proud of you.” _

_ “It was nothing,” Hilda soothes from behind, having obviously picked up on the slight tremble that still runs through Marianne’s limbs. “I mean. Did you  _ see  _ us? I don’t know about Edelgard over there, but I cut through that giant-ass bird like butter.” _

_ “I think if you look back,” Edelgard cuts in, a teasing lilt to her voice despite the challenge of her words, “it was  _ I  _ who did the greatest damage to our foe.” _

_ Sandwiched between the two, Marianne finds herself tearing up despite the feeble laughter that bursts from her chest. The two of them have just gone through so much, and yet they worry about her. The blood has yet to dry on their weapons, and yet they turn to make sure her fears are assuaged. _

_ Every day, she wakes up not believing she could love Edelgard and Hilda more. Yet every night, she goes to bed knowing that she does. _

  
∞  
  


It was far easier than expected to find the town talked about on the flyer Hilda had brought back. Between how recently the destruction had happened and the fact that her flames could be seen on the horizon, Hilda and Marianne didn’t have to go far out of their way.

The wind was hot and dry against Marianne’s face as she looked around and tried to find her bearings. She was pretty sure that the now-bare land that they rode across had once been a forest, if the charred, spindly remains of trees were anything to go by, but other than that and a few smoldering foundations of destroyed houses, there was little left from which they could learn about the land.

“I hope no one was hurt,” Hilda said, leaning the side of her face against Marianne’s back. Marianne’s hands tightened around the leather of Dorte’s reins, and while Hilda had no way of seeing her expression, she pressed her lips together sadly.

“Me too,” she replied, although they both knew it couldn’t be true.

A giant shadow flew over them, blocking out the sunlight above for a few terrifying moments. Hilda’s arms tightened against her waist and Dorte snorted nervously; Marianne leaned forwards to pat his neck calmly despite the frantic beating of her own heart.

“Let’s get off and leave Dorte here,” she suggested. Hilda grunted in agreement, and as soon as she dismounted, Marianne quickly followed. She removed their weapons from where they were held up along his side before giving Dorte the signal to move back, and with a harsh snort, he made it known that he understood before trotting away slowly.

The knowledge that her beloved horse would no longer be within the range of battle lifted just a little bit of the weight on Marianne’s shoulders. Dorte was no war horse, but the stallion had been in enough scuffles with them and was intelligent enough that he knew to move away when things took a potentially dangerous turn. He would be safe, and should one or the both of them survive the fight, he would be there to take them safely home.

No sooner did Marianne lose track of Dorte’s position than a sudden tremble ran through the ground, threatening to knock her off balance. She whirled around to see that the very beast that they had been searching for had landed on the ground and was now scrutinizing her and Hilda with an intelligent violet eye.

  
∞  
  


_ Edelgard is quiet. This isn’t abnormal; she can be quite studious when the mood strikes her. It’s one of the things that Marianne admires, and Hilda is annoyed by. _

_ “El,” Hilda whines, coiling her arms around Marianne’s waist as they both watch her become increasingly absorbed in whatever tome is open on her desk. “El~l, we’re gonna go get dinner. The lady next door says they’ve got some killer pheasant down the street. Are you coming with us or not?” _

_ “Calm down, Hilda,” Marianne says. “It may be something important,” Not moving Hilda off of her, she shuffles over to take a seat on the bed by Edelgard’s desk. It’s one of the things they always look for whenever staying at an inn—that there is a space for Edelgard to map and plot as she finds necessary. There’s no doubt that she’s the brains behind their operation, a fact that is only reinforced by Hilda’s indignant laughter as Marianne’s decision to sit down makes her Marianne’s seat. _

_ “I think I’ve figured out what these birds are,” Edelgard says, the fabricated humor of the moment withering away as she lifts her book and turns it to face Hilda and Marianne. They’re a little too far away to read the tiny text scrawled across the pages, but Marianne is immediately sucked in by the picture that takes up the majority of one page. _

_ It’s an illustration of a bird, but the way it’s been drawn indicates that it’s more like a dragon or a phoenix. Huge, almost mountainous in size, it rises above a town with a fire in its eyes that leaves Marianne certain that there is no hope for the town below. Yet more than terror, it inspires a sadness in her heart that she can’t shake off. _

_ “What is it?” she asks as she reaches out to graze her fingertips against the bird’s impossibly sharp beak. If it isn’t for the fact that she knows it’s a drawing, she could swear that her fingers would come away bloody. _

_ “It doesn’t have a name,” Edelgard replies, her voice deep with something Marianne isn’t able to name. “But it’s a creature of pure devastation, born from the despair of humanity itself.” _

_ Hilda speaks up from behind Marianne, surprisingly serious. “What do you mean, it’s born from humanity’s despair?” _

_ Edelgard closes the book. _

_ “They used to be human.” _

_ Marianne’s heart sinks. The three of them had discussed the possibility before, but hearing that each of the great birds they’d encountered—that they’d killed in hopes of granting them peace—had once been human? It is almost too much to bear. _

_ “Is there anything we could have done?” she asks feebly, and Edelgard turns about in her seat so that she can brush the wisps of Marianne’s hair back behind her ear. _

_ “The only thing we could have done would have been to somehow… this is difficult to explain.” Edelgard sighs, shaking her head. “You’d have to take their despair on yourself, somehow. Doing that frees their soul and allows them to move on. That’s what the book says at least, though it doesn’t say how. Aside from that, there’s no way to save them. They just… disappear. Die like normal beasts do.” _

_ She groans. “I wish books like this would be clearer about whether they’re talking literally or in metaphor. It’s starting to give me a headache.” _

_ “Hopefully, we don’t have to try and figure it out,” Hilda says with a playful squeeze to Marianne’s waist. “I’d like to think that we’ll never see one of those things ever again.” _

  
∞  
  


The bird lifted its wings to the sky. The setting sun lit it up from behind, and the black flames that coated the great bird’s body, distorting its evening silhouette, took on a hellishly red and yellow hue. It had grown tremendously since the last time Marianne had seen it, and she could now understand why all the depictions they had found described such birds to be so gigantic.

The great bird’s jagged beak opened, and out fell a voice that tore sharply at Marianne’s heart more than the beak itself could.

“Are you the ones who will save me?” the bird croaked in Edelgard’s voice, though there was no sign that she recognized them. Marianne wanted to weep at the sound, raw and pained as it was, but Hilda spoke up before she had the opportunity to do anything in response.

“Uh, yeah. I think that’s what we’re planning to do.” She looked sidelong at Marianne, raising a brow in accordance with her question. Marianne had to admire her tenacity, the nonchalant way in which she treated the sound of their lover’s voice in so much pain. “That’s what we’re planning to do, right, Mari?”

“I wouldn’t have put it so nobly as that,” Marianne said with a little shrug. Her attempt to stay as light-hearted as Hilda managed to be was far from successful, as it was barely a moment before her shoulders fell and her muscles tensed in preparation. 

This was not the place for a witty repartee. Edelgard did not deserve the discourtesy that they had for so long extended to smaller, pettier foes.

Marianne had wracked her mind for ages to find another solution. She had pored over hundreds,  _ thousands  _ of books in the greatest of libraries, and it seemed to be the only cure for someone so long lost to despair. And as much as it would hurt her—hurt all of them, Edelgard included—defeating her was the only way to save her soul.

It was time.

From the sheath at her side, she drew the sword of her ancestors, the great sword Blutgang, and held it out towards the dark phoenix, who beat its wings and shrieked at the sight of the weapon. She could see Hilda ready her own axe out of the corner of her eye, propping Freikugel up onto her shoulder as easily as if the greataxe were as light as paper.

With a fierce cry, Hilda leapt forward. Freikugel glinted in the air, however briefly, before sinking into the joint between Edelgard’s shoulder and wing with an unsettling proficiency.

And, her soul heavy with heartbreak and determination alike, Marianne followed after.

  
∞  
  


_ Hilda’s nails gently scrape across her scalp as Marianne sits ramrod straight. It’s a common occurrence for Hilda to do her hair, to separate and rejoin her long tresses into several braids before pinning them up, but rarely does Edelgard join in on their little ritual. She’s possessive of her porcelain-colored hair, so it’s all the more meaningful to Marianne that she has the chance to weave her fingers through it. _

_ “Is there something you want me to do with it?” she asks. “I’m not as good as Hilda, but I’ll try.” _

_ “You don’t need to put it up,” Edelgard replies in a surprisingly quiet mumble. Marianne raises a brow, but just keeps running her fingers through her partner’s hair, searching for tangles she knows she won’t find. “I just… want to be with you two, right now.” _

_ Marianne’s smile is faint. She can’t fault Edelgard that, not after what they’ve seen. Not after the terrors Edelgard has been through in her life. If she had the opportunity, Marianne would wrap her up in a blanket of comfort and never let her go—but she knows that Edelgard is always pointed towards the future, that she won’t let herself stop until no one else can be hurt. _

_ “Put your head on my lap,” she suggests. To her pleasure, Edelgard doesn’t debate, and simply lays down so that Marianne can brush her fingers over the barely-there baby hairs that frame her face. She finds a rhythm to the movement easily enough, and Edelgard’s terse expression soon melts away to neutrality. _

_ “Aw, Edelgard gets a lap pillow and I don’t?” Hilda laughs, and while Hilda is still braiding away, Marianne shifts just far enough in her position that she has the chance to look over Marianne’s shoulder and see Edelgard there. _

_ “Quiet,” she chides. “She’s sleeping.” _

  
∞  
  


The sharp end of her blade sliced through the bird’s breast, and Marianne gritted her teeth in a desperate attempt to keep from screaming out an apology. Their enemy wasn’t her lover, not anymore, but a cage designed to keep her in agony. It would hurt, but the cage needed to be broken before Edelgard could be freed. Blood sprayed through the air as she pulled Blutgang out from the wound, and drops of crimson landed on her skin with all the heat of fire itself.

The sound of the beast’s own cry of pain rang through the air so loudly that Marianne worried her eardrums would burst. Without giving Marianne any time to react, it swung around with those giant wings held out, and swung them right into her. The heft of the wings knocked her to the ground and pushed her several feet away, the fire that coated the feathers with a dangerous shine burned her clothing and singed her hair.

Marianne cried out as something in her body crunched against the scorched earth, and Hilda whipped around.

“Marianne!” she called, turning as if she meant to run to Marianne and comfort her, but Marianne held her hand up.

“I’ll be alright,” Marianne tried to assure her, but she knew that the pain-sharpened edge to her voice was clearly audible. “Keep going! For Edelgard!”

“Fine, but I’m not doing this by myself!”

Marianne struggled to her feet, clutching her abdomen like the placement of her arm would somehow negate what she knows to be at least one cracked rib. “You’re not going to have to,” she said under her breath before tightening her hold on the grip of her sword and lurching forward into the fray.

  
∞  
  


_ “There’s so much darkness in the world,” Edelgard whispers, her breath hot on Marianne’s face as they try to avoid waking their sleeping lover. Hilda snores loudly at Marianne’s back, leading her to doubt that they truly risk such a calamity, but it is rare for her and Edelgard to share such an intimate moment alone and she is reluctant to risk losing it. _

_ “Isn’t that why we fight?” Marianne asks with a slow, sleepy blink. She feels warm, loved, safe in her position pressed between Edelgard and Hilda, all three of them together underneath one blanket. A tricky time to hold such a deep conversation. “To keep the darkness at bay? So that no one else is hurt as you were?” _

_ Despite the serious nature of Marianne’s suggestion, Edelgard laughs beneath her breath and, shifting her position slightly, reaches out to cup Marianne’s cheek in her hand. Marianne watches her face carefully, even as she yearns to just sink into the contact that Edelgard offers. _

_ She worries about Edelgard so, so much. From what little she knows of her past—Edelgard keeps it guarded close, as though the very knowledge of her struggles would open her partners up to danger—Marianne knows that she was wounded beyond belief, kept locked up for years. It’s why Edelgard fights so hard, as though saving even one person makes up for having been unable to save herself for so exceedingly long. Marianne and Hilda join her on that endless quest, of course, but Marianne always worries that in Edelgard’s quest to become a beacon of light, she’s going to burn herself up in the process. _

_ Gently, Edelgard brushes her thumb against Marianne’s cheekbone, then taps her cheek. Tap. Tap. Tap. The surety of the motion, the bond between them, comforts Marianne and brings the warmth of love to her soul. _

_ “It is purely because of the kindness of your heart that I believe there is still good to be found,” she says a moment later. “You and Hilda… the two of you bring me hope.”  _

_ “You’re good too,” Marianne protests, worried by the turn in conversation. “Please, Edelgard, don’t think otherwise.” _

_ Edelgard laughs again and, without warning, draws in close enough to Marianne that she can—and does—kiss her lovingly. Marianne lets her for a moment, then pulls away. Behind her, Hilda mumbles something unintelligible. Something about being jostled, probably. _

_ “You  _ are _ good,” Marianne persists once Hilda quiets down. _

_ “And that belief is part of what makes you so beautiful,” Edelgard says. _

_ Marianne can barely make out her expression in the darkness of the night, but she can’t shake the feeling that her eyes are far too sad for such a tender moment. _

  
∞  
  


“I think that’s as much as it can take,” Hilda panted as she took a step back to stand beside Marianne, the head of her axe dragging across the ground. “Like, it’s also as much as  _ I  _ can take. I’m absolutely exhausted.”

The bird lay on the ground, its heaving chest the only reason Marianne could even tell it was still alive. Marianne’s lip trembled at the sight; she clutched at her aching ribs.

“So… what are we going to do now?”

Marianne sighed and shook her head, terror seizing hold of her pulse despite her struggle to keep her expression at least passably under control.

“I don’t—I don’t know, Hilda.”

  
∞  
  


_ Edelgard screams. _

_ The sound rips through the air, deafening and desperate and razor-sharp in its monstrosity, and Hilda and Marianne can do nothing but cover their ears. It leaves their hearts vulnerable and, within moments, broken. _

_ “Edelgard, don’t!” someone cries, and Marianne feels the plea so intensely that she isn’t sure whether it’s her or Hilda who makes their prayer known. _

_ But Edelgard is too far gone, too wrapped up in fire and darkness and fear to hear them desperately calling out to her. Hilda has to tear Marianne away from the sight, has to physically pick her up and prevent her from reaching out to Edelgard in her moment of need and getting caught up in the storm of despair that swirls ominously about her body. _

_ Marianne fights her every moment of the way, and it’s not until a great, black bird with piercing violet eyes and a heartrending cry rises from the flames that Marianne allows herself to fall limp in Hilda’s arms. _

_ Their tears become indistinguishable on the ground behind them. _

  
∞  
  


Without any warning, realization came to Marianne like a lightning strike. She knew what had to be done, what she could do in a final act of desperation, and she knew with certainty that she  _ had  _ to do it alone.

Blutgang fell to the ground, any sound that it made drowned out by the rushing in her ears and the beating of her heart. Marianne took a trembling step forward, steeling herself for the inevitability of what was to come—yet before she had the chance to take one step more, she found Hilda’s arm blocking her way.

Marianne turned to look at her partner with a sinking heart. She knew what Hilda was about to do.

“You’ve done enough for us, Marianne,” Hilda said with a sad, resolute smile. The crows’ feet that she had for so long pretended weren’t there deepened as her smile grew. “Let  _ me _ do this.”

“Hilda,” Marianne protested, trying to push past with no avail. She wasn’t surprised; Hilda’s immense strength was legendary, and if she ever decided to do something, there was no changing her mind. Even so, she had to  _ try.  _ “Hilda, let me do this. I’m good for nothing else.”

“You’re our strength,” Hilda said in reply, not giving Marianne’s kneejerk self-deprecation another moment to breathe. “You’re the reason me and Edelgard could be happy in this dumb ol’ world, so just—just let me  _ do  _ this, okay?”

“Hilda, no!” Marianne grabbed at Hilda’s arm, desperately trying to hold her back and keep her there with her.

Silently, with that same sad smile, Hilda let her.

Hilda let Marianne pull her in close, let her wrap her arms around her tight and pretend that for a moment, just a moment, Hilda wasn’t about to leave her forever. Tears, hot with sorrow and desperation, streamed down Marianne’s face and stained the dark fabric at Hilda’s shoulder. Her heart broke at the thought of Hilda going into that maelstrom of fire and despair alone, yet as much as Marianne wanted to go with her, she knew that there was no reason for them both to perish.

“I love you,” Hilda murmured, pressing her forehead against Marianne’s. Marianne clutched at Hilda’s shirt and tried to choke out her own simple response through the heaving of her chest. She couldn’t force the words out, but tightened and loosened her grip on Hilda’s shirt one, two, three times.  
  


∞  
  


_ “What does that mean?” Marianne asks as she pulls her arm away from Hilda’s wandering hands. “If you want my attention, you can just say my name.” _

_ “It’s a secret code!” Hilda laughs, grabbing for Marianne’s arm and repeating the one-two-three rhythm on her forearm with trimmed nails. “One-two-three means I-love-you. My family and I used to do it as like, a game, but I figured we could use it, too. Especially for you and Edelgard, since you guys often get…” _

_ “Depressed,” Edelgard helpfully supplies, inserting herself into the conversation. _

_ Hilda sucks her breath in through her teeth, grimaces. “I wasn’t gonna put it like that, but sure. I just thought it’d be nice to have a way to remind you that I love you when you aren’t feeling super talkative.” _

_ “I like it,” Marianne says, taking Edelgard’s arm and turning it over in her hand. Gently, with the pad of her index finger, she taps out her affection experimentally on the scar-laced skin of Edelgard’s forearm. “I… love… you.” _

_ Edelgard chuckles and grabs Hilda’s arm to repeat the same process. “I can see this working out,” she says even as Hilda dissolves into giggles at the light and ticklish feeling. “Now you can get all the affection you so obviously crave, and all without saying a word!”  _

_ “Noooooo,” Hilda wails, pitifully falling onto Edelgard’s lap and staring even more pitifully at Marianne. “Mari, don’t listen to her! I still need love!” _

_ Marianne doesn’t reply, only laughs so hard that she has to wipe a mirthful tear from the corner of her eye. One-two-three, she taps on the side of Hilda’s leg as her girlfriends tussle about. _

_ One-two-three. I-love-you.  
  
_

∞  
  


One, two, three times Marianne clenched her fist and hoped beyond hope that Hilda remembered their silent signal. Hilda clutched her tighter, only pulling away far enough that she could press her lips against Marianne’s forehead.

“Yeah, I know you love me too,” Hilda whispered, her own voice thick with emotion as she brushed fallen tears from Marianne’s cheek with her thumb. Marianne leaned into her touch, keenly aware of the finality of their situation.

“And I know El does too, even if she’s trapped inside that… thing.” Hilda shifted her glance from Marianne to the screeching bird that writhed upon the ground. “I—I  _ know  _ it’s stupid, doing this for someone that doesn’t even remember us, but—”

“It’s because we love her,” Marianne cut in, finally finding the strength to speak. She lifted her hands to cover Hilda’s, and smiled feebly. “Because she doesn’t deserve to spend the rest of eternity in pain like this.”

“Yeah,” Hilda replied with a tilt of her head. The fading sunlight caught the tears rolling down from the corners of her eyes and made them shine like diamonds.

Marianne felt her terror so strongly that she wanted to sweep her away, take Hilda far away from here and pretend that all of this never happened. But since that was impossible, all she could do was lean in and firmly mash her lips against Hilda’s in the quickest, most fervent and passion-filled kiss that she could provide.

She poured all of her feelings into that kiss, every whispered conversation, confident promise, and inside joke that had ever been shared between the three of them, and she just prayed that Edelgard would somehow be able to understand her love for her even from afar.

“Tell her I love her, too,” Marianne said breathlessly as she pulled away. “I love you both so, so much. Now, go!”

Hilda pulled Marianne in for one final, brief goodbye kiss of her own before pushing away to turn, resolutely, towards Edelgard’s dark, anguished form.

Marianne’s heart clenched at the sight of Hilda’s departing back. The pain of being left behind while her love walked towards her death was unspeakable; all she could do was fall to her knees, her hands pressed against her chest like some sort of shield, and let the swirling wind buffet her from all around.

A scream built up in her chest, begging to be let loose and let the world know of her agony, yet Marianne watched in silence as Hilda’s long pink hair swayed in the wind. The brightness of her person and confidence of her stance was a stark contrast to the almost pitiful form of the dark bird that she approached.

She watched the bird rise up and prepare to defend itself as Hilda got close enough to reach out and touch it. But before it could lunge out at her, snap at her with that too-sharp beak and tear her apart, Hilda reached out and wrapped her arms around its neck. The bird froze at the sudden contact, and from afar, Marianne could just barely make out the sight of Hilda’s hand running comfortingly through the dark feathers along Edelgard’s wing.

_ There’s no way to save them. _

Edelgard’s voice rose unbidden from the back of her mind. The sweetness and comfort of her presence, long-gone as it was in all but her memory, brought a fresh cascade of tears to her face.

She longed to be closer, longed to hear what Hilda was saying to the lost soul of their most beloved person. She missed Edelgard desperately, and while she had resolved herself to letting Hilda go forth instead of her, there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to run forwards and hear her voice one last time.

Forever too far away, Edelgard moved to allow Hilda the opportunity to see her head-on. Hilda pressed her forehead against Edelgard’s broad one, and more than ever did Marianne find herself yearning to hear.  _ I love you,  _ she wanted to scream.  _ Know that you made me feel loved,  _ she wanted them to know.

_ You’d have to take their despair on yourself, somehow. _

But in her heart, she knew that Hilda was conveying their love to Edelgard, and she had to be content with that.

The wind kicked up again, harder this time, and blew up dirt and bits of sand that obscured most of Marianne’s vision. She could barely make Edelgard and Hilda out through the debris, but in those brief glimpses into the little world that they—and only they—seemed to occupy, she saw nothing but bright, healing light and clouds of floating white and pink hair. Hilda seemed to be rising into the air, the darkness that had overtaken Edelgard’s body flowing onto hers through the seamless joining of her hand with Edelgard’s now-human one.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind ceased. Marianne could clearly see the human—blessedly human!—figures of Edelgard and Hilda alike. While Edelgard was now clean as fresh linen and looked no different than the last day Marianne had seen her, she could barely tell that Hilda was herself at all. Even from afar, she could see that her skin was becoming as dark as ink, as despair itself, and the only reason she could tell that the slow-moving body  _ was  _ Hilda was by her shockingly bright burst of laughter, the hand that she lifted to Marianne in victory.

“Marianne! We  _ did _ it, Marianne!”

At the sound of Hilda’s jubilant decree, Edelgard turned her head Marianne’s way. Marianne’s eyes locked with hers, those vibrant purple hues that she’d never loved so much as when she’d seen them in Edelgard’s eyes, and for that brief moment, Marianne felt peace. Edelgard lifted her hand to match Hilda’s, a bright smile breaking up the otherwise tired aspects of her expression. While they were still too far apart for a true reunion, Marianne knew for certain that their hearts would always beat as one.

_ That frees their soul and allows them to move on _ .

Hilda’s arm fell as she cried out in pain and folded over on herself. Edelgard gathered Hilda up in her arms, holding her close, and while Marianne struggled to her feet in an attempt to reach them in that last moment, the harsh wind made its presence known once more and pushed her back.

It was impossible for Marianne to reach Hilda. She knew that. That didn’t stop her from reaching out to her beloved ones, from desperately trying to claw her way across the ground until her fingers were raw and bloody to try and just  _ touch  _ her.

Not even that was enough. The darkness of the despair that had once been Edelgard’s creeped across Hilda’s face, washed over her, and consumed her whole. As her entire being was stained, Hilda lifted a mottled hand to Edelgard’s cheek, said something. Her hand fell to the ground.

Marianne  _ felt  _ her go.

Edelgard felt it too, and only more sharply. Marianne watched as she tilted her head back in an open-mouthed, wordless cry of agony and loss, and it was all Marianne could do to cry with her as the wind, the cruel wind, blew Hilda apart and away as nothing more than a pile of ashes.

Edelgard’s cry only grew louder, higher, stronger. Deafening, her voice rolled across the open land. And for a moment, just a moment, the world seemed to stop. From afar, Marianne saw the slow tongues of new flame lick the ground around Edelgard’s kneeling form, rise higher and higher and higher until with one final scream of heartache, she disappeared in a tower of flame.

From the flame rose the silhouette of a dark bird. Instead of inspiring fear as Edelgard once had, however, its presence brought to Marianne’s heart a gentle comfort that she could not understand. It flew down to the base of the quickly dying flame where, much to Marianne’s confusion, it nudged at something.

Apparently satisfied with whatever it found there, it turned to Marianne with shockingly purple eyes and cocked its head at her. Then with a speed that took her by surprise, it rushed towards her. She threw her hands up to protect herself, but to no avail. The bird dissipated into nothingness right before it hit her.

And Marianne was alone.

  
∞  
  


_ “What would you think—and hear me out here, this is gonna sound weird—if it was like, all three of us?” _

_ After trading brief, confused glances with each other, Edelgard and Marianne both turn to look at Hilda. She stands between the two of them, her hands thrown up in a plea of innocence. _

_ “I’m not sure what you mean,” Edelgard says, just as Marianne stammers out, “I—I don’t understand.” _

_ Hilda shakes her head dramatically, obviously having expected this very outcome to her proposition. “I mean exactly what I said.” _

_ She reaches out between Edelgard and Marianne, taking Edelgard’s right hand and Marianne’s left one in her own hands before bringing them together. Marianne balks at the unexpected touch, but Edelgard clasps their hands together so naturally that within a moment, Marianne isn’t sure why she was so scared. _

_ “I know the two of you love each other,” Hilda says triumphantly, like it’s some big secret that they’ve been hiding away from her. And it is, at least for Marianne. She’s been juggling her conflicting feelings for weeks now, trying to find some balance between the same love she feels for two very different women. _

_ But Edelgard smiles at her, her smile like a balm to her wounded soul, and Marianne finds the strength to smile back. _

_ “But more importantly,” Hilda continues, seemingly oblivious to their silent conversation, “I know the both of you love me, too. And I love you!” _

_ “Get to the point,” Edelgard butts in. _

_ “Well.” Hilda grows quieter, more hesitant, like now that she hasn’t been completely cut off, she herself is scared to continue explaining her outlandish idea. “What if—” _

_ Marianne reaches out with her free hand, cupping Hilda’s cheek in her palm. “We’re listening to you, Hilda. Take your time.” _

_ “We all love each other,” Hilda blurts out. “You two love each other, and me too. Not like I also love both of you—I mean, I  _ do,  _ but like, we each love each other individually for our individual reasons and it’s just one big triangle of love and I don’t want to lose that so why don’t we just make it official?” _

_ Marianne’s jaw drops, though she has the presence of mind to keep her mouth shut. She shares another look with Edelgard, whose knowing smile only grows. _

_ “I do love her,” Marianne admits sheepishly, trying to alleviate her terror of admitting the truth with a gentle tilt of her head. “I love you, Edelgard, but I love Hilda too.” _

_ “That’s fortunate,” Edelgard says, lifting their conjoined hands so as to press a small kiss to the back of Marianne’s hand. Then, reaching out and taking Hilda’s hand with her other, Edelgard offers the same gesture to Hilda. “For I feel much the same way.”  _

_ Hilda’s eyes light up. Marianne smiles at her obvious joy, but she isn’t given much time to react before Hilda leaps forward and wraps both her and Edelgard up in the greatest hug she’s ever experienced. _

_ “I love you guys so much,” Hilda sobs, and Marianne reaches around to pat her back. Her hand brushes against Edelgard’s, and they smile at each other over their weeping girlfriend’s head. _

_ “We love you too,” Marianne whispers. “So, so much.” _

  
∞  
  


Marianne clutched her arms around herself, holding herself as tightly as she could as she keened with pain. The sound rose across the empty land, a beacon of heartbreak and overwhelming sorrow, and in that moment, Marianne felt more alone than she ever had before.

Not even the souls of her lovers remained in the world to comfort her, and the emptiness of her heart grew with every passing moment in which she could not feel their touch.

They had not abandoned her. She knew that. She had seen the method of their passing. Yet while she knew that they had felt nothing less than love for her, that she and Hilda had known what they were getting themselves into when they’d decided to go after Edelgard, she couldn’t yet bring herself to forgive them for leaving her so alone. It would take time for that forgiveness to bandage her wounded heart.

Her tears, hot against the pallor of her face, against the coldness that she now felt in her solitude, splashed against the ground and quickly disappeared. Only a dark spot remained to show where they had fallen, and even that faded away within the span of a heartbeat.

A sudden cry broke through Marianne’s mourning.

Small and thin, it rose and intertwined with her grief. But it wasn’t a wail of sorrow, as hers was—it was a wordless call for help, backed by the hope that somewhere,  _ anywhere,  _ someone would answer.

Marianne, her brows drawn together even as despair and confusion clouded her mind, rose to her feet. Stumbling across the flat earth, she followed the pitiful cries to their source: the very spot where Edelgard and Hilda had been so cruelly ripped away from her.

A baby, tiny and fragile, lay among the pile of ashes, feathers, and fabric that had once been her most beloved people. A little girl, she reached out to Marianne with violet eyes both wide and innocent searching her face even as her cries quieted to a whimper. It did not even cross Marianne’s mind to worry about how the soot would stain; she immediately knelt down amongst the ashes to pick up the baby and cradle her as tenderly as if she were her own.

Deep down in her heart, Marianne knew. The baby  _ was  _ her own. Born of the flames of Edelgard’s love and Hilda’s sacrifice, the child had been born from the ashes of the past as a promise of tomorrow.

What else was she here for, if not to care for the baby?

She was more than a caregiver, she knew that. But in that moment, hollow as she was, she wanted nothing more than to be needed.

“Hello, little one,” Marianne said in a voice raspy from sorrow. “I didn’t expect to be joined so soon. You’ll have to forgive me.” She lifted her empty hand and, catching the loose fabric of her sleeve around her palm, wiped as much grime and as many tears from her face as she could without a mirror. Then, she scooped up what remained of the clothes Edelgard had been wearing and draped the scraps of fabric over the infant’s otherwise naked body. The baby cooed at her, and the friendly little sound made Marianne smile weakly through her heartache.

_ For you, for me, for our love and what we sacrificed for its sake, _ Marianne thought, speaking to Hilda’s and Edelgard’s memories as well as to herself,  _ I will give Edelgard the life she never had the chance to have on her own.  _ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud; the rising lump in her throat made it impossible, however poetic it may have been in the moment.

As if intentionally providing a distraction, the baby gurgled and held out a chubby hand; Marianne gently bounced her up and down as she let the baby grasp her index finger. The infant’s grip was tighter than expected. While a vague memory in the back of her mind supplied the reassurance that this was normal, she chuckled uncomfortably nonetheless.

The child would need a name. She could always name her Edelgard, to remind her of the strength and love of the person she had once been, but at the same time… Edelgard had been such a unique individual that it would be impossible to expect the child to turn out as she had. All three of them had grown up with impossible expectations; she couldn’t bring herself to set that same burden on this baby’s tiny shoulders.

She would choose an appropriate one later, she decided. For now, the task at hand was returning home—to whatever home remained—and adjusting to the struggles that she now faced alone.

“Let’s go home,” she said to the little baby. Dorte, sensing that the struggle was over and it was safe to come near, trotted over from afar and stuck his nose in the baby’s face.

“Not now, Dorte,” Marianne chuckled as she moved his face away with her shoulder. “She’s too small for that. You’ll smother her.”

Dorte merely huffed, his warm breath causing the baby’s hair to fly about wildly and the baby herself to shriek in delight. Marianne stroked his mane thoughtfully. Then, after pressing a kiss against the downy white hair on the baby’s forehead, she looked back to the pinks and reds in the dawn rising above what remained of her tiny family.

She couldn’t look to the past anymore, for the future was hers to hold. And as the future laughed in her arms, enchanted by Dorte’s gentle curiosity and ignorant to the meaning of the gentle one-two-three rhythm to which her back was being pat, Marianne smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> My endless thanks to [Lily,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blooming_Spiderlily/pseuds/Blooming_Spiderlily) without whom I don't think this would have ever been brought to fruition. Additional thanks to [Olivia,](https://twitter.com/pippitea) who is equally as fond of the original song as I am, and [Fox,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII) who suggested that it be a poly relationship in the first place.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear your thoughts. It's been a while since I angsted so hard; I certainly had fun. Thank you for reading ❤
> 
> [my tumblr](https://tansybells.tumblr.com) | [my twitter](https://twitter.com/tansybells)


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